


been waiting years

by celestialskiff



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: (but no actual sex with wolves), Anal Sex, Animalistic Sex, Armpit sniffing, M/M, Mutt the wolf, Play Fighting, Psychic Wolves, Puppy pile (of wolves), Submission, Wolves made them do it (kind of), but it's fine, no DADT not when there are gay wolves, non-traditional substance used as lube, some marines may overhear the whole thing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-13 20:22:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29407596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celestialskiff/pseuds/celestialskiff
Summary: “Does Mutt like him?” Elizabeth cut him off.Muttdidlike Ronon: and so did John. But he was not going to admit that he had a crush, for Christ’s sake, not to Elizabeth; but yes, he’d seen Ronon’s arms and felt Ronon’s breath against his cheek as he tied to John up, and – Ronondefinitelywasn’t the worst person who’d tied him up.John’s wolf, Mutt, is a total slut. Not like John. At all.One of my favourite parts of SGA is when Ronon ties John up, and John’s like, “Wow, this dude is super hot,” and takes him home. Real galaxy brain moment there, John. Now with added psychic wolves.
Relationships: Ronon Dex/John Sheppard
Comments: 10
Kudos: 32
Collections: Psychic Wolves for Lupercalia





	been waiting years

**Author's Note:**

> My first SGA fic. Thanks to **capeofstorm** for introducing me to SGA, putting up with me talking endlessly about Ronon, and the beta. Thanks also to **Petra Le Maitre** for organising Lupercalia and introducing me to the concept of psychic wolves.

I tell you now I had been waiting  
years to feel this brimming over this stoppered-up this  
ripe fullness 

\- Richard Scott, _plug_

“What are you going to do with him?” Elizabeth said. “He’s a security risk, John. What do we really know about him?” 

John lifted his chin, ready to defend his actions, but Mutt chose that moment to undermine him. As usual. Mutt crawled on his belly over to Elizabeth’s wolf, and exposed his throat to her, whimpering and drooling. Mutt was a complete push-over when it came to Elizabeth and Hera. 

Elizabeth pretended nothing was happening as Hera nudged Mutt’s face and nibbled his ear. John felt Mutt’s anxiety begin to ease as Hera whacked him with one of her huge paws. She was approximately a third bigger than Mutt. 

He tried to maintain his composure, but most of what he’d planned to say had vanished from his mind. Instead, he was left with the image of Ronon: scarred, wild-eyed; and his thin, exhausted wolf. 

“He’s...” John swallowed. “He’s like us, Elizabeth.” 

They had met other people in the Pegasus galaxy who were bonded with wolves, or who had a similar bond with a different kind of animal, but wolf-bonds were certainly rarer here than they were on Earth. Still, Elizabeth gave no sign that she understood him. 

“His wolf is so skinny. He’s...” His words cut off as Mutt growled in distress. “We need to give them a chance.” 

Elizabeth folded her arms, sighing. “So not only have you brought a seasoned, unpredictable warrior to Atlantis, you’ve also brought a wolf.” 

“I take responsibility for him. For both of them,” John said. “I won’t let anything happen.” 

Mutt was grooming Hera’s impressive ruff. Hera had tilted her head up, sighing in pleasure as his teeth worked knots from her fur. John felt Mutt’s response to her: pleasing Hera relaxed him, and he was suffused with happy submission. John gritted his teeth. Mutt’s feelings made it hard to concentrate. Mutt was a runt, smaller than the average wolf, but, as John’s first CO had said, had ten times as much fight in him as a normal wolf. He was tough and tireless, and a complete fucking push-over. With Hera to fuss over, he was in heaven. 

Elizabeth was watching their wolves too. She rolled her eyes. “Hera’s such a hedonist,” she said. 

“She’s a queen,” John said. “She deserves it.” 

John knew Elizabeth was softening, but she still fixed him with a glare. “So what are you going to do with him?” 

“He needs to heal. He needs rest. He might want to leave, of course, but...” John spread his fingers. “He could be a useful member of my team. He’s strong. He understands the culture, he knows people.” 

“You like him.” 

“Well, he’ll need to get used to the way we do things. But he seems....” 

“Does Mutt like him?” Elizabeth cut him off. 

John bit his lower lip. He _did_ like Ronon: he was not going to admit that he had a crush, for Christ’s sake, not to Elizabeth; but yes, he’d seen Ronon’s arms and felt Ronon’s breath against his cheek as he tied to John up, and – Ronon _definitely_ wasn’t the worst person who’d tied him up. John had smelt the hot-strong musk of his skin, and he’d wanted to – rub his face in Ronon’s armpit, but – 

That wasn’t why he’d invited him here. This was strictly business. 

“Mutt thinks he’s OK.” 

Elizabeth snorted. “You should probably go and see how he is.” 

** 

Mutt paced ahead of John as they made their way through the corridors. There weren’t many other wolves on Atlantis, but enough to make Mutt feel the need to stop and sniff various pillars and doorways. Mutt also had a circuit of people he knew would give him food, and he was usually perfectly happy to ignore John in favour of them, but today was different. Today he stuck close.

John rubbed the top of Mutt’s head. He was missing half of his left ear from a fight when John first joined the air force: it stood out in a thick pink ridge of scar tissue. He had a long black scar along his muzzle – wolves were never ugly, but Mutt was about as funny looking as a wolf could be, with his odd ears, his grin, and his mottled grey fur. John cuffed him fondly. “Sure you don’t want to go visit that marine you think is so hot?” 

Mutt nudged John’s hand. He probably didn’t understand John’s words, but he knew he was being teased. 

“You want to see Ronon, too, huh?” 

Mutt whined, low in his throat, and began walking again, covering ground so fast that John had to lengthen his stride to keep up. 

Ronon’s wolf, in contrast, was fucking beautiful. A large male, bigger than Hera, with thick, glossy black fur, shading to an even deeper black at his snout and paws. His eyes were points of liquid darkness, and his teeth were immense. He was rangy, muscled, but too lean. He was waiting outside Ronon’s temporary quarters, and when he saw them approaching, he stood, hackles raising. The marines John had set to discreetly guard Ronon’s quarters looked terrified. 

Mutt skidded over, sniffing the marines and giving his tail a friendly wag, before he focused on Ronon’s wolf. He shuffled down, making himself look as non-threatening as he could, gazing up at the larger wolf. He’d been at the wolf’s throat when he thought John was in danger, all teeth and snarl, but now he looked like he’d never bitten anything in his life. 

There was a long pause, as the wolf looked at Mutt, and the marines looked at the wolf, and everyone waited for blood to be drawn. 

Then the door opened. Ronon eyed John. 

“Were you asleep? Doc told you to rest,” John said. 

Ronon stepped back into his quarters, and the wolf followed. Mutt followed the wolf, and John took this as an invitation. 

“What’s his name?” he asked. 

Ronon sat on the edge of his narrow bed. He looked like he didn’t really fit into the room: spending so long on the run had made him seem out of place indoors. His wolf sprawled at his feet: the dim lighting caught the glint of his eye. John could smell, again, the heat of Ronon’s skin, and the wolf’s fur. His mouth was dry. 

“Did you get something to eat?” John tried. 

Ronon nodded. He put his hand on his wolf’s head: even his big hand didn’t span the wolf’s massive skull. “He’s Dex,” he said. “I’m his, so I get his name. I’m Ronon Dex.” He looked at Mutt. “You don’t have his name.” 

“No.” 

Ronon rubbed his beard. “Most people don’t live with wolves. And the ones that do don’t respect them like we did.”

John thought of Teyla’s bond with her wolf, and how those among the Athosians who bonded with wolves were given positions of particular authority. If Ronon didn’t think that was enough respect, he was definitely going to find Atlantis hard to get used to: by those who were not bonded, wolves were seen as something between pets and canon fodder; while those who were bonded struggled to find words to describe what their wolves meant to them. Plus, there was the stereotype that anyone who was wolf-bonded would sleep with anything that moved. 

Which was totally unfair, of course. 

Mutt had been creeping closer and closer to Ronon and Dex. His tail twitched hopefully. 

Ronon’s face softened. He held his hand out to Mutt, and Mutt responded with enthusiasm, licking Ronon’s palm, whining softly, and pressing his big head against Ronon’s forearm. “You act like a pup,” Ronon said to him. “Don’t you?” He rubbed behind Mutt’s ear, and Mutt shut his eyes with joy. 

“He has discipline in the field,” John said, not sure if he was excusing or defending Mutt. “But he’s never been top of the pack.” 

Ronon dug his fingers into the fur on Mutt’s chest. “He’s brave,” he said. “You’re in charge though. Here. How does that work, if your wolf’s not on top?” 

“Well...” John swallowed. He could explain that military promotions didn’t work like that. But it was true that wolf-bonded commanders had sometimes looked at Mutt and passed John over for a promotion, seeing something in him that the unbonded never could. And that sometimes it had been hard for John to maintain authority over bonded personnel, when Mutt, though utterly fierce in a fight, was clearly happiest when he was at the bottom of the pack. Sometimes literally. 

“It’s not always easy,” he said at last. 

Ronon looked at him: his gaze clear, steady and knowing. “I’ll bet. Do you want to sit?” 

It was – John wasn’t sure it was a great idea to sit next to Ronon on the tiny bed, especially when he was tired, and coming down from an adrenaline high, and Mutt was snuggling up against Ronon’s legs, but – He wanted Ronon’s trust. It would be stupid to refuse the offer. 

Dex let him step over his bulk, but John didn’t try to touch him. 

Ronon looked at him carefully. “If I stay here, will you be in command of Dex?” 

“You’d... You’d get final say over anything your wolf does. We wouldn’t separate you. But – yeah, ultimately I’d be in command of both of you.” 

“OK.” 

“You mean, you’d be OK with that?” 

Ronon shrugged. “I’ve had worse commanders.” 

Mutt had put his head in Ronon’s lap, drooling. Ronon turned to face John. His arm settled around John’s shoulders, pulling him into Ronon’s side. “What do you need?” Ronon said. 

That hot scent, the press of Ronon’s skin – God, John wanted to sink his face into Ronon’s chest, his armpit – “I...” He was stiffening, sitting up. This _was_ a terrible idea. “It’s not like that.” 

Mutt whined. “Not like what?” Ronon said. 

“I don’t...” John rubbed his forehead. Wondered if the marines outside were assuming he was getting on his knees right now, rubbing his face against Ronon’s groin... _We’re not like that,_ wolf-bonded said, meaning they weren’t sluts for each other, they didn’t figure out their problems by fighting and fucking each other, but... In John’s case, at least, it was a lie. He _was_ like that. 

“I should let you get some rest. You need to heal up,” John said, with an effort. 

Ronon smiled. “I’m not so badly hurt I can’t take care of you.” He touched John’s jaw, and Mutt whined. “You’re kind of small, but I like you.” 

“I’m not...” John felt off-kilter in a way he wasn’t sure how to put into words. “I don’t need...” He tried to stand up but his foot landed on Dex. The big black wolf sat up, looked at John, and put two huge paws on John’s knees. His nose nudged John’s cheek. Hot wolf breath, broad tongue licking his forehead. 

Then Dex sat back down, and Mutt crawled out of Ronon’s arms and went whining to him, wriggling over the ground and raising his tail to show Dex his butt. 

Fuck. 

John was too hot, and his skin was too tight, and Ronon smelt so fucking good, and he was... Worn out. Worn out with trying not to want anyone, with trying to be in control of everything, with going to fight and never having anyone to bring him down afterwards... 

He tilted his face up, and reaching for Ronon, and Ronon laughed, and said, “That’s right,” and nipped John’s lips, his chin, before his tongue lapped into John’s mouth, and John felt his muscles melting. Mutt was happy, he could feel Mutt’s pleasure, spreading between them, a delicious feedback loop of heat and want. 

“Good,” Ronon said, and it was such a small word but John felt it through his whole body, the pleasure in being _good,_ in being praised... God, he was so fucking easy, but he didn’t care right now... He began undoing his shirt, tugging at his belt – Ronon’s hands were touching his bare skin, suddenly, his belly, his chest, big and warm, and John quivered in response – Fuck, _fuck,_ he was so hard already, this was _ridiculous..._

When they were naked, Ronon rolled him easily onto his back, hands on John’s shoulders. John really wanted to suck his cock, he wanted to slide down between Ronon’s legs, but Ronon was looking at him up and down, and he felt small, suddenly, in a way he never had before. Pinned. Fuck it, he wasn’t a small man, but compared to Ronon he felt – different – 

“Not bad,” Ronon said, “You could use a little more muscle.” 

“Fuck you.” John stretched up, reaching for another kiss. Ronon cuffed him, controlled and affectionate, on the side of his jaw, and John grabbed at Ronon’s ribs, and suddenly they were wrestling, struggling to get a grip on each other on the small bed. Skin to skin, a mixture of nips to mouth and throat and ears, and jabs at soft parts of the flesh – 

From the whining and yelping, John knew Mutt and Dex were doing pretty much the same thing, and it was almost embarrassing to realise how much he was mirroring his goddamn wolf. But it was hard to feel embarrassed when his cock was erect and needy, pressing into Ronon’s stomach as they fought with each other in a delicious tension of skin. He wrapped his thighs around Ronon’s hips, and Ronon laughed and pinched his ass painfully, and John sucked in a breath and made a grab for the roots of Ronon’s hair. 

Ronon laughed, tilting his head, and caught John’s arm painfully, jerking it behind him. John froze, breath catching. Ronon’s teeth gripped him just above his jugular, the vein pulsing below the grip of incisors. Carefully, Ronon eased his grip on John’s arm. 

Suddenly going limp seemed like the most natural thing in the world. John felt himself submit – it was a physical change going through his whole body, like giving in to sleep. Or maybe like letting himself be driven somewhere in a car – It was easy and complete, and Mutt responded to it, giving another soft whine as he licked Dex’s chin, and Dex’s warm body settled on top of his... 

Ronon let go of his neck, and tongued the sore place. 

“I’m going to fuck you now.” His voice was surprisingly gentle, and he rubbed his thumb over John’s chin and throat in a firm, soothing circle. “Say that’s what you want.” 

“I want you to fuck me,” John said, and it was _all_ he wanted, suddenly: he’d been thinking about mutual blowjobs, about kneeling for Ronon, about the hot musk of his groin in John’s mouth and throat, he’d thought it would be too much to have anyone in his ass but... He wanted it, a yearning, a hunger. Fuck it, let him get his ass in the air like Mutt, let him melt under Ronon’s hands. 

“Good,” Ronon said again, and John felt his toes curl again simply from hearing the one syllable of praise. 

Ronon rolled him onto his stomach, and then manipulated him onto knees and forearms. John followed the directions of Ronon’s hands, offering no resistance as Ronon pushed his ass into the air. Dex was fucking into Mutt, and Mutt was opening to him, feeling pleasure and a sense of satisfaction, and it coursed through John as he opened to Ronon – 

Ronon’s nose followed the crease of John’s ass: he licked into him, tongue hot and wet against his hole, and John whimpered, cursing.

Then John felt a cold disappointment, said, “I – I didn’t bring anything – any lube,” because he was sure Ronon didn’t have anything he could use. 

“Relax,” Ronon said, rubbing John’s ass with one hand. “The doctor gave me a bunch of kit.” 

As far as John knew, Carson was not in the habit of handing out sex aids, but Ronon reached across John, grabbed a small white tube from the clutter of items on the bedside locker, and John relaxed. God, he wanted to be fucked, it had been so long... 

“What the fuck is this?” Ronon muttered as a sharp, herbal scent filled the room. 

John tried to pull his thoughts together. What if it was – toothpaste or something? Christ. “Show me.” 

Ronon handed him the tube. It was haemorrhoid cream. 

John stared at it for a second. This was it. This was when he got himself together, told Ronon this was a bad idea, they’d talk properly tomorrow, that he wasn’t in the habit of being fucked open by strangers... 

_It’d probably work,_ he thought. _The haemorrhoid cream. You’re supposed to put it in your ass, and it’s slippery. It’s meant to smooth things out._

_Did Carson give this to Ronon because he’s got haemorrhoids? Think about that. Think about that and have some goddamn discipline, Sheppard._

Mutt was – was being licked by Dex’s long tongue, Dex was on top of him, he was – was so big and so in charge and Mutt felt – felt so happy – 

“It’ll work,” John tossed the tube back to Ronon. “It’s OK.” 

He was only half-hard now, but it felt so good when Ronon rubbed the back of his neck, his hands travelling down John’s spine that he was already starting to moan. He felt shivery, too sensitive, but when Ronon rubbed his ass he was thinking, again, of teeth at his throat, of being opened, of belonging to someone, he wanted to be – to be used, to be – 

“Fuck,” he whimpered, as he felt Ronon’s fingers against his anus. “Fuck me.” 

Ronon squeezed his ass cheek, hard enough to hurt. “When I’m ready.” 

Then Ronon was stretching over him, bracing one arm beside John’s head, and his whole hot stomach and chest were pressed against John’s back, and John melted under his weight, fingers losing their grip on the sheets, mouth opening... God, yes. He needed this, he didn’t care about anything else, he didn’t ever want to leave, he just needed this, to be open, to give himself.... 

There was the pungent scent of Preparation H again, and then he felt Ronon’s fingers, thrusting slick into his hole, and then the blunt head of Ronon’s cock. God, he hadn’t even got a chance to look at Ronon’s cock properly, next time he’d suck him off, rub it against his cheek, scent his skin with Ronon’s pre-cum – 

There’d better be a next time. 

But he wanted this, too. He wanted the ache and the feeling of muscles being breached, the stretch and squeeze of it. He was panting, his vision red and hazy – He didn’t notice the smell of the gel any more, only the hard, smooth push of Ronon’s cock. These few moments, when there were no thoughts, there was only the feeling of skin, of opening, were _everything._ He felt free, impossibly free, as he only felt when he was flying alone, as though there were no barriers between him and joy. 

Ronon kissed his neck, nipping the skin below his jaw, and he felt his body trembling as it adjusted to take Ronon’s cock. He was present in the room again, smelling the strange, bitter lube, and the conflicting musks of wolf and of their own bodies. The room was so full of the sounds of sex, human and wolf, it was obscene. John rubbed his face against his forearms, lost in the red haze of sex.

Ronon brushed the sweaty hair off John’s forehead. “Good,” he said. “You’re doing good.” 

John pressed against Ronon, pushing his ass back into Ronon’s cock, his spine against Ronon’s belly, tilting his head so he could rub his jaw against Ronon’s face. Ronon chuckled, a soft, indulgent sound, and licked at the parts of John’s face he could reach. “Th-this is not how I planned this visit to go.” 

Ronon snorted. “I think it is. You and your wolf came in here, stinking of need: what kind of man would ignore that?” 

He was still bracing himself with one arm as he thrust into John, but the other arm gripped John’s chest, thumb rubbing over his nipple. 

“I –” John grunted. “Nh. It’s not usually – considered protocol to fuck on your first meeting.” 

He wondered vaguely if he was taking advantage of Ronon. It didn’t feel like it. 

“We’ve fought together. Shared blood. Your wolf has submitted to my wolf.” Ronon tweaked the nipple harder, and John’s mouth opened in a silent gasp. “It doesn’t get more intimate.” 

There were things to say to that, John thought, but right now he had no idea what they were. He could feel Mutt’s satisfaction, mirroring the sweet burn in his own ass. His cock was hard and wet. John thrust back against Ronon, and levered himself up a little so he could get one arm free... 

“I’ll deal with that,” Ronon said, as John fumbled for his cock, and then demonstrably did not deal with it, but remained slowly thrusting in and out of John’s body. John gave a little whimper, just like Mutt’s needy whines. 

Ronon chuckled again. “Wait,” he said, voice steady, like John was in training, and John wriggled under him. Ronon gripped John’s jaw, keeping him in place – another person doing that would have made John afraid, made him want to fight but – but now he just let it happen. When Ronon’s finger touched his lips, John sucked it without thinking. It wasn’t a cock, but it was part of Ronon, and he wanted to – to feel him everywhere – 

Ronon groaned as John sucked the finger deeper. “Good – good wolf,” Ronon said, slowly and easy, and he thrust faster, seeming to lose the control he’d had over his body for so long. John whimpered, taking it, wanting to take it, images flashing through his mind of how – how he must look, here, in this sex-den, being taken, loving it – He drew Ronon’s finger deeper into his mouth, thinking he _was_ a good wolf, a good dog, he’d suck Ronon so good, he’d be so strong and tough and Ronon would be so proud of him, he’d den with him and Dex, and – 

Shuddering, Ronon pulled out of John, finger jerking out of John’s mouth, and John made a keening, puppyish sound as Ronon rolled him over. John felt exposed like this too, with Ronon straddling his thighs, and at the same time, he drank in the image: Ronon’s scarred chest, his strong arms, his thick cock. God, it looked fucking beautiful as he pumped it through his fist. 

John watched as his face screwed up, he grunted, and the orgasm shuddered through him. Hot semen spilled onto John’s stomach, and Ronon rolled onto him, kissing him sloppily, jaw, chin, mouth. 

He felt so good like that, pinned down. John’s own cock throbbed, frantic, trapped under Ronon’s bulk, but he didn’t try to move. He was giving his pleasure over to Ronon, giving his body over to Ronon. He trusted him – Jesus, he hadn’t trusted anyone so much in so long. He whined a little in the back of his throat, but it was a happy whine. Mutt was making the same sound as he stretched out under Dex, happy and complete. 

“This what you needed?” Ronon said, voice even more gravelly than before. 

“Yeah.” 

“Need something else?” 

“Fuck, yes.” 

Ronon levered himself up. He rearranged John so he was at the edge of the bed, and Ronon could kneel on the floor and suck him. John didn’t protest: he felt floppy, relaxed, like anything could happen and it would be good. 

And Ronon’s mouth was hot around his cock, his big fingers wrapping around the base, almost too tight, his mouth was wet and – Fuck, he wanted to thrust up into that heat, his balls tight, his cock frantic. 

He buried a hand in Ronon’s hair: it took a moment for words to sort themselves into a sentence. “I’m not gonna last.” 

Ronon looked up, a grin edging onto his mouth. “Don’t want you to _last.”_

The wet suction was back around John, so hot and so, so good, and John was – was whimpering, letting go, letting go of everything, as he’d spent all night letting go. Coming was going to be fantastic but it wasn’t what mattered: it was these moments, when he hung on the edge, ready to fall, ready to be caught by Ronon – 

Nn. Actually, no. Coming _was_ what mattered, the white heat of it spreading through his cock and belly as Ronon sucked him and sucked him, and everything was lost to that one sensation. Time vanished and John was simply _here_ , coming in Ronon’s mouth. 

Mutt sighed, stretching under Dex, tongue lolling – John could feel _him_ responding to John’s pleasure, the orgasm spreading from man to wolf and back again. _He was in this den, with these gorgeous wolves, and he was happy, he was where he was_ supposed _to be..._

Ronon spat into his hand, and then wiped it vaguely with the bedsheet. Gross. John blinked at Ronon’s profile in the dim light, the hair falling into his face. God, he was beautiful. Ronon flopped back onto the bed, which was too small, really, for one Ronon, let alone both of them, but it didn’t matter: they needed to be close, they didn’t need to be comfortable. 

When Ronon stretched his arms over his head, John didn’t try to stop himself: he snuggled into Ronon’s armpit, into his chest, rubbing his cheek against Ronon’s sweat, tasting him everywhere. 

Ronon made a pleased sound, and wrapped his arm around John, pulling him closer. John ended up with his head and most of his torso on Ronon’s chest, his legs wrapped around Ronon’s thigh. One of Ronon’s hands was on his butt, the other over his stomach. He wasn’t pinned down the way he’d been when Ronon was on top of him, but he still felt contained, held. Dex made a satisfied little noise in his throat, and John felt Mutt’s contentment as he snuggled against the larger wolf’s belly. 

Better not fall asleep. Better get cleaned up, get back to his quarters... 

Who was he fucking kidding. 

**

He woke dry-mouthed, muscles sore. Ass unpleasantly slippery. Disoriented. 

Dex woke as Mutt crawled away, but Ronon didn’t stir when John made a similar manoeuvre. Dex looked at him, stare intense and impenetrable, as John held out his hand. Then the wolf sniffed it once, and settled his head back onto his paws. 

Mutt followed John into the bathroom, where they both took a piss, Mutt into the drain provided for that purpose. John drank tap water, swilling it around his mouth. Come was crusted uncomfortably onto his stomach. He needed to take a shower, get out of here, get his life in order. Mutt nudged his knee, soft wolf fur tickling John’s thigh. John knelt to hug Mutt against him. Mutt licked his ear. 

“We shouldn’t have done this, buddy,” John said. “We have responsibilities.” 

Mutt nudged him. Mutt only communicated in feelings, but his emotions were so strong right now, John could almost hear them as words: _Feels good. Wanna stay in the den_. 

Dex had crawled up onto the bed, into the space John had vacated. That made it easy. That was his cue to... 

Ronon’s eyes were open. “Come back here.” 

“I don’t think there’s room.” John tried to laugh. 

Ronon didn’t say anything, but John didn’t pick up his clothes, didn’t start to get ready to leave. There definitely was no space on the bed, but John took a step towards it, and Ronon gripped his wrist. He pulled him down on top of him and on top of Dex, so John was pillowed on a mixture of fur and skin, and it felt – it felt like a den, it felt like _home –_

Mutt leapt up onto the bed, too, big wolf paws digging painfully into naked flesh. 

“Settle down,” John snapped at Mutt, but Ronon was already reaching for him, cuffing the side of Mutt’s head affectionately. He squirmed over John, briefly choking John with paws and tail, and nuzzled into Ronon’s neck, licking his cheek and ear. 

Ronon petted him, tugging at his ears, scratching his chest. Dex sighed, squashed, and squirmed a little, burrowing his snout under John’s neck, digging big, hard feet against the backs of John’s calves. It was wildly uncomfortable: too small, too hot, too many wolves, too many smells – And it was perfect. John didn’t want to move, ever. 

“Good wolf,” Ronon said, his other hand coming up to scratch the back of John’s head, mirroring the way he was touching Mutt. John’s eyes fluttered closed in pleasure. 

N-no. He was supposed to – supposed to _leave_ – to – 

“Though I’d calmed you down,” Ronon said. “You’re tense again. Go to sleep. Me and Dex will keep you safe.” 

John swallowed. “I – You know, I came here to talk to you about – about the rules on Atlantis, whether you – you want to stay. If you do, I’d be your commanding officer, not your – your –” He wasn’t sure what word he was trying not to say. Wolves didn’t have words, but there was a feeling Mutt had, a good, warm feeling, when Dex was on top of him, and that was what John was searching for – _I’m not your – [hotgoodunderyes]._

“You worry too much,” Ronon said. 

Mutt groaned sleepily, snuggling closer into Ronon, and, in the process, whacking John in the cheek with a huge paw. 

“I try not to.” John sighed. “This is – complicated.” 

Ronon snorted. He held John under his jaw, forcing his head up. Their eyes met. “I don’t know how you do things here. I’ve been – I’ve been on the run for years, you know that. I –” He frowned. “But I’ve been a soldier. For years. I’ll follow your command. But when you’re in my den, you shut the hell up and let me take care of you.” 

John opened – and closed his mouth. God, his back was going to be completely wrecked if he stayed here in this pile of wolves and limbs. And – and he absolutely wasn’t going to move. “OK,” he said, and settled back into Ronon’s armpit.


End file.
